


Regrets (The Mutual Destruction Remix)

by phalangine



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Missing Scene, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some cures are worse than the disease. Or, Charles and Erik make a mistake, and why Charles doesn’t see it coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets (The Mutual Destruction Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Regrets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6987679) by [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten). 



> Huuuge thanks to my betas. Y'all rock <3

The shape of En Sabbah Nur’s mind burns in Charles’ skull like a fresh brand. It sizzles and it aches and worst of all, the pain seeps out beyond his mind into his body- it leaves him stiff, trying to keep his weight off a limb he can’t actually put weight on. Unlike imprinted skin, the mental brand cannot be soothed with ice and care. Instead, it lingers on his brain, raw and growing infected the longer Charles pretends it isn’t there. In another world, he would numb the spot the way he did with the wound Erik left him; in this one, that isn’t an option. The children rely on him. Mutants across the world are congregating, and some will need their help. He must remain in control for their sake.

So Charles covers up the mess with a bandage of forced ignorance and focuses instead on good things.

He watches Scott grow more comfortable with his gift. He smiles as the other students stop shunning Jean and regard her with awe instead- there she goes, the one who stopped Apocalypse, the Phoenix. Their Phoenix. He sits beside his sister and revels in the wonder of the gathered crowd as Erik and Jean begin to rebuild the school.

All the while his head feels too full, the pressure building as it prepares to explode.

Then, one night when Charles is doing the dishes after supper, Erik comes in from replacing a stretch of siding. He’s soaked with sweat, clothes clinging tightly to his body, and his mind is singing with exhaustion. But under that-

Under that lies a prickle of need Charles can understand.

 _Come find me,_ it whispers. _I don’t want to bear this alone._

Swallowing back the knee-jerk fear- this is Erik, and for all the man has done, it has never been his intention to do harm- Charles draws himself up.

“My friend,” he calls. “Erik. Wait.”

As if Charles had yanked a string, Erik’s head snaps up. His eyes are wild around the edges, and Charles feels the same burst of kinship he felt the first time he dragged this man from drowning. Perhaps he can perform the miracle a second time.

 _He would have sacrificed you,_ a treacherous part of Charles’ mind whispers. _His pain is greater than any love he has for you. You will never be his first choice._

“I haven’t had a good chess partner since you left,” Charles says over the sound of his pointless fears. “Fancy a game?”

 

* * *

 

Charles doesn’t know how they got from chess to here. He doesn’t even care that he doesn’t know. They’re in his room, stripping off beside his bed, and Erik keeps forgetting what he’s doing because he won’t stop kissing Charles.

Here, Charles thinks as he twines his fingers through Erik’s hair. Here is the cure to Apocalypse.

 

* * *

 

It is possible Charles made a mistake.

Erik is getting dressed, eyes fixed resolutely on the floor. He didn’t linger in bed after they finished (Can Charles call it finishing, when it feels as if all they did is coming undone without ever truly coming together?), merely slunk off the mattress and reached for his boxers.

Regret is pouring off him like hot wax. Soon it will harden into yet more rage.

“Is this all, then?” Charles asks. He never can leave well enough alone when it comes to Erik. “You’ll come to my bed, but you leave without a word, just fill my head with your self-loathing?”

Erik doesn’t so much as pause in reaching for his jeans. When he speaks, his voice is flat. “It’s better than my wife got. If you don’t like what you see in my head, don’t look.”

“I don’t like the look of your absurd costumes either. Shall I gouge out my eyes?”

“Don’t do this,” Erik says lowly.

“Funny. I remember asking you the same thing.”

That gets a response. Just for a moment, Erik’s head snaps toward Charles. His eyes are bright, his mind sparking, the whole of him lit up with fresh fury. It fades almost immediately, and in its place comes guilt.

Sighing, Charles hauls himself onto his side, the better not to watch as Erik tugs his shirt on.

Eventually he hears the telltale creak of old floorboards.

“Wherever it is you end up going,” he calls, already resigned to the path Erik has chosen for them- it’s always Erik who chooses what becomes of them, never Charles- “don’t die. If not for them, then for me.”

Aloud, Erik says nothing, but his mind snaps bitterly. _Don’t use them against me. You have no right._

He has a point, so Charles drops the matter. Any claims Charles might have had on Erik have long since rusted and broken. It’s Magda who has Erik now; if nothing else, tonight proved that. He is so full of her, it was only willful blindness that let Charles convince himself taking Erik to bed could end well. Charles is just a could-have-been, a should-not-have-been. Another regret.

Weeks later, when Erik leaves, he slips away before anyone can try to object. Though their paths cross in the kitchen before breakfast, he doesn’t acknowledge what he’s doing until later. Then, he seeks Charles out. They part almost kindly, but as is always the case with Erik, it’s the parting itself that matters.

One more attempt at bringing his friend peace. One more failure.

Someday, Charles will get it right, if only Erik will let him.

When Charles can no longer feel Erik’s mind, the lurking migraine finally makes itself known. He takes two aspirin for the pain and wheels himself to the room where the youngest students are awaiting story time. They clamor for him to start, their minds straining to find out what comes next, to _know_. For all he failed with Erik, Charles takes solace in this: he is bringing hope to the next generation. The older ones may be trained as X-Men, but they may never need to fight. And these, the littlest ones, they will grow up safe and loved.

Of all mutants, Erik must see the importance of that.

Perhaps one day he will even see himself a part of it.


End file.
